Calling 911
by CrossedScarsX
Summary: In Memoriam of 9/11/2001. Leon can't believe his eyes. His family lives in New York. Rated T, because I'm pretty sure that everyone knows what happened that day...some swearing.


A/N: This is for the tenth anniversary of 9/11/2001.

I tried to post it earlier today, but it went through so many revisions that I'm only getting it posted now. The idea to do it comes from my other fanfiction "The Journal of One, Leon Orcot", as eventually I would have covered that date in the journal. But because this was the tenth anniversary, I felt I had to get it out now. Technically, this contains light spoilers for that fanfic. This is a stand-alone one-shot, but should be considered an elaborated version of the future Journal entry. This fanfic also serves to deal with a dilemma I have with the cannon story, where Chris seems to know nothing about Leon's 20 year journey. The manga finished before the infamous attacks on America, and I can't imagine Leon not checking in on Chris at this point...so...here you go...

God Bless all the victims.

* * *

><p>It was a bumpy descent. Leon grumbled as he shoved his spiral notebook into a worn knapsack by his feet. The turbulence made it too shaky to write anything more in his journal for the time being. He sighed. He'd just have to finish when the plane landed. Leon looked at his watch. It was early. Only 9:00. Weird. He didn't think that they'd be landing so soon.<p>

A voice sounded over the intercom. "This is your pilot speaking. We will be making detour to Reagan National Airport in Washington D.C.. There is no cause for alarm. Please remain in your seats and buckle up for our landing."

The pilot's voice was relaxed. Leon heard a person behind him grumble about being late for her ever so important meeting. And yet another man became edgy—no doubt a guy who was a bit afraid of heights. Leon didn't blame him. After all, he had witnessed a plane explode soon after take-off with that girl, Monica, poor girl. It was a wonder that he didn't also have a fear of flying.

All the same, Leon didn't trust what the pilot said. It was like in movies: if someone told you that there was no cause for alarm, there was cause for alarm. It wasn't that he felt that he was in some sort of imminent danger, but something definitely seemed off. It wasn't every day that a flight was rerouted, right? Leon sighed and prepared himself for another bout of ear popping as the plane dipped lower and lower.

It would be strange, to be back on American soil, Leon thought. Leon had been gone for years. He had been too busy checking the rest of the world for Count D to think about going home. But after many failed attempts and near misses, Leon begrudgingly decided to return to the US.

It wasn't that he was avoiding going back or anything. Not really. After all, he didn't belong with his family. And he wasn't in charge of Christopher anymore. Yeah. And Count D—he wouldn't come back here, right? The FBI still has a case file on him. He would be too busy hiding from the law to sell any of those 'dreams' that so often turned to nightmares. Leon was just running out of options. He wouldn't go to the New York's Chinatown, since Chris lived up there. Yeah, the Count wouldn't risk Chris finding him there. Absolutely. And if the Count wouldn't stay there, then neither would Leon. It had nothing to do with Chris. Nothing at all.

The plane landed. The pilot's voice came over the loudspeaker again. "Welcome to Reagan National Airport. The weather is bright and sunny, and the time is 9:10. Please reset your watches accordingly. Unfortunately, I have just been informed that this will not be a quick stop ladies and gentlemen, and everyone must now exit the plane accordingly. Our apologies for the inconvenience."

Now that was weird. Maybe the cringing guy in the seat behind him did have a good reason to cringe. There were cries of annoyance and protests that sounded from the passengers, but all complied as the stewardesses lead the people out of the plane and onto the ramps to the terminals.

When Leon stepped outside he noticed the crowds of people hovering around the television screens in the sitting areas. It was strange. Leon's gut told him that something was wrong. The other exiting passengers also noticed. The only sounds in the terminal were of men and women gasping, sighing, and crying.

Filled with curiosity, Leon and the others made their way to see what was on the television. To Leon, it looked like some sort of movie, with flames and explosions. But it wasn't a movie. There was a CNN logo at the bottom of the screen. Was that the Word Trade Center? Yes, it was.

"Oh my God."

Leon couldn't process what he was seeing. "What's going on here?" He demanded from a woman in front of him.

"Plane...it just hit the World Trade Center..." Her voice was shaky.

A chorus of voices joined in: "We just saw it a few minutes ago!" "It was an explosion at the World Trade Center!" "There ain't no way them people up top are gonna get out...they'll all be fried." "Lord have mercy..." "It's terrorists, I'm telling ya!" "Why would someone do this?" "Hail Mary full of grace..." "A second plane, live on the news!"

That last bit really caught Leon's attention. "What do you mean SECOND plane?" he demanded, rounding on the man who said it. Leon backed off slightly, seeing as the man already had a horrified look about him.

"The Towers, t-they both got hit. They was saying it might have been a plane hitting the first one...that was about half an hour ago though. Then BOOM, there goes a second one! Oh God, I was hoping it was just an accident..." the man began to cry then, and he shrank in front of Leon, moving to sit in one of the chairs, wiping his face with a handkerchief.

Leon looked back at the screen. It was mesmerizing, the way the smoke billowed up, like some great black shadow against a perfect blue sky, the towers dotted with bright orange flames...and it was terrifying. This wasn't really happening was it? No, it couldn't be. Leon was just dreaming. New York wasn't in flames. He was still on the plane, dosing off, and having an intense and incredibly morbid dream. But then, chalking up unexplained and horrible experiences had never worked out for Leon in the past, and he had the battle scars to prove it.

"Oh God, I've been away on business. I work on the 76th floor...the South Tower...I could have been dead right now!"

Shit, Leon thought. This is really happening.

More cries filled the air like a grotesque soundtrack accompanying the burning image on the television screens.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven..."

"Jesus Christ...those are people falling...they're jumping! Oh my God, they're jumping!"

Leon watched in wonder. People were indeed tumbling down. To him, they looked like teeny tiny spiders to him...when they would fall fast, dangling from a silk thread...but for the souls on the screen...in New York...there was no lifeline, just hopeless desperation.

"I gotta call my wife."

"Jesus. My family is in New York."

_Family. _ That word served to focus Leon's thoughts. "Mine too." A shudder of fear ran through him. _Oh God...Chris._

"You should call them." Leon didn't know if the woman who said that was speaking to him or the other guy. Either way, she was right.

_Chris. Chris. Gotta call Chris. Gotta call my uncle. Shit. He works in Manhattan. Shit shit shit. _

Leon felt sick. Some people were on their cell phones, dialing frantically. He ditched his cell phone years back. It made no sense to carry it from country to country. He'd never be able to afford that kind of coverage. He looked around. He had to find a phone. The public phones were all in use...and there were were lines forming behind them. He wondered if there were other phones nearby that he could find, but thought the better of it. If he had that thought, others would surely have gotten to those phones too. People would be lined up everywhere. The phones were near enough to the screens...he could wait and watch at the same time. Leon lined up with several other worried travelers, waiting impatiently for a chance to call home. He checked his pockets for change.

"...the Pentagon?"

_What?_

Now what had been a din of worried and shocked voices, erupted into a cacophony of near hysteria. Some people screamed. Many lost whatever composition they had and began to sobbed and hold on to each other.

"Oh, god, that's only five miles from here!" "No!" "Why is this happening?" "Shit, did they evacuate the White House?" "Was it another plane?" "They are just saying an explosion..." "Are there any more planes hijacked?" "I don't know...I haven't heard." "Do you think we can see the pentagon from here?" "Are you mad, don't go out there!" "The is war, man! World War Three, just you watch!"

He listen intently, staining to see the images on the monitor. Yeah, that was the pentagon alright. Leon felt angry. He was, after all, what Count D loved to refer to as a typical American—standing up for the Red, White, and Blue. Damn right. Leon had immense pride in his country. There was nothing wrong with being a patriot. Leon believed in justice and inalienable rights and all that good shit that the forefathers stood for. Once, the Count accused that Leon's sense of justice was a sham...that was probably the worst thing he'd ever said to Leon. Far worse than him calling Leon a pig, or a lech, or stupid. Leon truly, truly believed in serving good. For someone like D to suggest otherwise...it attacked the core of Leon's identity. What kind of justice would be served for the events of today? To see America attacked like this, it made Leon's blood boil—but fear for his family, made his blood run equally cold.

All around him in the phone line, Leon heard impassioned voices: "Damnit, pick up the phone!" "It's no use..." "Fucking hell, go through!" "Honey, where are you?" "Please..._please, answer..._"

Leon's stomach grew more and more queasy as the minutes passed. Many people were calling collect, after they ran out of what little change they had, but there must have been a rush on collect calls or something, because few people were getting through. Leon winced as he watched one man give up on the phone and walk away in tears.

No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, Leon felt insanely guilty. Here he was, about to call his family...about to call his little brother...after five goddamned years with out so much as a word, and it took a thousand trapped people in a tower to drive him to do it. What the fuck did that say about him? Would they even want to hear from him? Shit, of course they would. Leon told himself to stop worrying about that, to calm down, because everything would be fine, right? His uncle might work in Manhattan, but he didn't work in the towers. At least, he didn't think he did. He hoped so. _Damn it, hurry the fuck up!_

More minutes passed. It was almost Leon's turn when a collective gasp forced him to look back at the screen. There was a huge plume of smoke and ash surging from the tower on the left.

Leon's heart dropped out of his chest. "No. Oh no...no, no, no, no, _no_!"

There was a roar from the gathered spectators. "Was that another plane?" "No I think the top just came down..." "OH GOD." "It's gone! It's fucking gone!"

And it was gone. The dust settled. The South tower had vanished.

Leon suddenly found himself much lower to the floor, and his bag discarded by his side. His legs had given out.

"Hey, guy...you gonna call?"

Leon slowly turned his head to look at a man hovering over him and nodded. He couldn't speak anymore. There was a lump in his throat.

He pulled himself off the ground and deposited his quarters into the payphone. He dialed, hoping that he remembered his Uncle's house phone correctly.

_Ring, ring._

Pick up.

_Ring, ring._

Pick _up._

_Ring, ring._

_If you don't pick up, I might not have the nerve to call again!_

_Ring, ring_

_PICK—click._

"H-hello?" Leon knew the voice was Josie. He began to respond, but he couldn't seem to make a sound.

"Hello? Dad? Is that you?"

It was a herculean effort, but Leon managed to force out a "No."

"Who is—Leon? Leon is that you? Answer me! Are you alright? Where are you?"

"I—I'm ok...I'm not in New York. I'm..I'm ok...I'm in an airport...I guess everything is grounded..."

"Oh god, Leon, I'm so glad to hear from you. Chris! Chris is at school...oh god...He'll want to talk with you too..." Josie's voice was shaking.

"Is your dad ok? And your mom? Is everyone safe?"

Josie took a deep breath. "Dad called a half an hour ago. He said he was ok, that he wasn't in the tower, and that he was a safe distance away...but oh god, the tower, it fell" She was definitely crying now. "It fell...and...and, oh god Leon, I can't get through to his cell phone anymore. They are showing everything coming down the streets and I'm afraid Leon, I'm so scared he might not come home."

"Shhh, shhh, He'll be fine. Your dad is smart. He wouldn't stay in a dangerous place. You have to try to calm down."

Josie took a moment to recompose herself on the other end. "Yeah, I know, You're right."

"Where's your mom?"

"She's in New Jersey...she was visiting a friend. But she called and said she'll be home soon."

Leon began to breath easier. They should be fine. "Josie...give me your dad's cell. I will try calling him too...if I get through I'll tell him to call you right away."

"Ok." She rattled off his number. Leon pulled a pen from his knapsack and wrote it down on his arm.

"Alright. I'm hanging up now...Josie?"

"Yeah?"

"If you don't hear back from me...tell Chris I love him very much. Ok?"

"Of course, but why wouldn't—"

"Thanks." Leon hung up before Josie could continue anymore. He staggered away from the phone, letting the next in line have a go. He briefly glanced back at the screens. Darkly, Leon wondered how long before the other tower crumbled into nothing. He decided to take a seat and collect his thoughts. He sank down into the seat with a shaky sigh and rubbed his temple.

Leon stayed seated for a long, long time—past the moment when the North tower fell, and a while later. The phone number stared him in the face when he crossed his arms. It burned on his arm, but the rest of him felt cold. He didn't know if it was the air conditioning or the pure shock of the day, but he was shivering from head to toe.

He wondered if he really could call the number. It had been a moment of adrenaline earlier, that allowed him to call before. He was really amazing that he even managed a conversation. He really didn't want to call the number anymore. He looked at a nearby wall clock. It was almost noon. Damn. Did it matter if he called it now? Probably not. If his uncle was alive, he'd have either called or gotten home by now. Everyone would be settling in and hugging and calling friends.

Who would Leon go to? Leon found himself, for the billionth time in his life, wishing that Count D was there, to help him make sense of everything. Leon would even be happy if the Count insulted humanity, pointing out that this was another step to their own destruction. He would scream at him and relieve his stress. And by god, Leon wanted to scream.

He could go back home. No. Back to his family. It wasn't his home. Home was somewhere far away. Maybe one day, Chris could join him. Yeah, that would be nice. But home was not in New York. Home was what Leon had been searching for all these years. To stop the search now, to stand still, to give up...he couldn't do that. The world would move on, despite the scars of today, and so would he. In that moment, Leon knew for certain: D would either be his damnation, or his salvation. Whatever path he took, it would always be D.

...but still, that number burned.

Leon dragged himself back to the phone...

...and he dialed.

"Hello?" It wasn't his uncle. It was a little boy's voice.

"..."

"Hellooo?"

"Who is it, Christopher?" a man's voice boomed on the other end.

"I don't know." Chris said, then softly: "...Leon? Big bro, is that you? Leon!"

Leon held his breath.

He hung up.

And then, unable to stop it, he cried.

Damnation, or salvation. Leon would just have to keep going.


End file.
